


letters

by remy (iamremy)



Series: askbox prompts (multifandom) [8]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Ficlet, M/M, Pre-Slash, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-11-02 10:08:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20709452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy/pseuds/remy
Summary: szamanita asked:Jonmund 44Jon teaches Tormund how to write in the Common Tongue.





	letters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Louhetar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louhetar/gifts).

> i love sza's prompts so much, honestly. so fucking much :')

“No, not like that,” Jon corrects patiently, putting his hand over Tormund’s and guiding it. “You curve it in the other direction.”

“I thought we already did that letter,” Tormund grumbles, but lets Jon move his hand and the quill that he’s awkwardly holding in it.

“We did,” Jon confirms. “This is a different one, though.” He lets go of Tormund’s hand. “Go on, you try it, now.”

Tormund’s hand shakes a little as he tries to keep a steady grip on the quill. As a result his letters come out just a little bit crooked, barely on the right side of legible, but he gets the shapes right this time.

“See?” says Jon, and smiles sunnily at him. “Not that difficult after all, is it?”

“I’d rather face a thousand men in battle on my own,” mutters Tormund, studying the mess he’s made of the parchment.

Jon scoffs at that. “You’re worse than Arya on a bad day,” he accuses. “It’s just _letters_, Tormund. They’ll come in useful someday.”

“Not in the North,” Tormund tells him, putting the quill down. “Don’t need any of this in the North, little crow.”

“Well, you’re in Winterfell now,” Jon reminds him. “Where you might need to read something.”

“Why?” asks Tormund. “Whatever it is, why can’t you read it to me?”

The sunny smile slips away, and Jon presses his lips together, expression darkening suddenly. “Because I’m leaving soon, Tormund,” he says quietly. “You know that. And I don’t know if I’ll come back. You and the rest of the free folk are going to be here for a while. I don’t want you left out of things just because you can’t read.“

That makes Tormund frown too. “Well, you’ll come back eventually, won’t you?”

“I don’t know that,” Jon answers. “I don’t know what will happen down South.”

Tormund opens his mouth to say something, but thinks better of it, letting it fall closed again. “Do you really have to go?” he asks instead. “It’s not your war.”

“I made a promise,” Jon reminds him, corners of his mouth tugging downwards. “She helped us with our cause, Tormund. The right thing to do is to honor the promise, and help her with hers.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Tormund argues, exasperated.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Jon says with a sad little smile.

“Then _why_?” Tormund asks again. He truly does not understand, and to make matters worse, the sadness clear in Jon’s face is making his heart hurt.

“She’s my Queen,” Jon says quietly.

“Stop saying that,” snaps Tormund. “Just because you knelt don’t make her your Queen.”

“It does, that’s the whole _point_,” Jon retorts. “I don’t know what to tell you, Tormund. I don’t know how to explain why I’m doing this.”

“Because there is no explanation,” Tormund says bluntly. “What you are doing does not makes sense at all.”

“Maybe not to you,” Jon says, and looks tired all of a sudden. “Look – do you trust me?”

What kind of question is that? “Of course I do,” Tormund says at once. “More than anyone else here. You _know_ that.”

“Then believe me when I say that this is what I have to do,” Jon says insistently.

_Why?_ Tormund wants to ask. What is it about her that has him doing and saying all these things that make no sense to anyone but him and her? What does he have going on in that pretty little head of his? None of it makes any sense to Tormund, and he knows for a fact that it doesn’t make any sense to Jon’s sisters and brother, either.

But Jon looks so miserable in this moment, candlelight flickering in his downcast eyes as he wrings his hands in his lap, and all the argument, all the fight, goes out of Tormund. All he wants to do now is to comfort him somehow, make him feel better even if it’s just in the smallest of ways.

He leans forward in his chair and takes both of Jon’s hands in his own. That makes Jon look up, surprised, and Tormund says, “I trust you. I believe you. But you must make me a promise.”

“What?” asks Jon.

“Survive,” says Tormund, straight to the point. “Whatever it takes, Jon. Survive. Come back.”

Jon exhales on a sigh. “You know I can’t promise that.”

“And yet I ask it of you all the same.”

Jon looks down to where Tormund’s gripping his hands tightly, and then back up at him. “I– okay, Tormund. I promise I’ll do my best.”

“Good,” says Tormund forcefully. “I expect you to keep it.”

Jon gives him a half-smile. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll kick your scrawny little arse,” Tormund threatens.

That makes Jon laugh, strangely enough. “Can’t have that, can we?”

“No,” says Tormund. “I’ll do it if I have to, my crow, but I will not enjoy it. Much,” he adds as an afterthought.

Jon laughs again. “Good to know,” he teases. “Come on now, let’s finish with the rest of these letters, shall we?”

**Author's Note:**

> thoughts?
> 
> love,  
remy


End file.
